Free The Runaway Pastor's Wife by Diane Moody, Hannah Schmitt Page B

believe it could
be deadly.
    As I
instructed you before, please make sure this document goes to the Attorney
General’s office ASAP. Before you make that contact, I need you to go to Houston and
pick up the file of evidence. You can find it in Locker 486 in the men’s locker
room at The Page. The combination is 21-6-15 .
Please turn this evidence over to the Attorney General along with this
document.
    I
apologize for having to involve you in this mess, Grady. But with the stakes so
high, I knew you were the only one I could trust. You’re the best, Brewster.
    —M
     
    Checking once more to make sure the letter was
saved, he entered the appropriate commands then saved it to a flash drive which
he removed and placed it in a small envelope. He scrawled Grady’s name on the
front.
    Michael sat back in his seat and closed his
eyes. He released a long, exhausted sigh. The well-kept secret had taken its
toll on him, much to his surprise. Having the sordid details finally off his
chest—even if only in writing—proved a remarkable relief.
    He leaned his seat back hoping to take a short
nap just as the flight attendant announced the plane would be landing in ten
minutes. Michael pushed the button, returning his seat to its upright position,
but his eyes remained closed.
    “Excuse me, sir, but you’ll need to disembark.
This is our final destination tonight.” Michael looked up into the kind eyes of
the flight attendant before realizing he was the last passenger left on board.
     

     
    “You’re gonna love this place, Dean. Best
Mexican food anywhere. And that includes any of those dives down in Texas .”
    Grady eased his spotless black Lexus into the
parking space he selected far away from the other cars parked outside of
Ricardo’s. Since picking his friend up curbside at the airport, Michael had
kept the conversation light and superficial. The usual kidding and reminiscing
shared by old friends was apparently all Michael was willing to handle for the
time being. Grady knew when his buddy was ready to talk, he would do so and not
before.
    “Hey, Mr. Brewster. How are you? You want your
usual table?” The attractive young waitress grabbed two menus and started down
the aisle.
    “That would be great, Maria.” Grady and Michael
followed her lead through two levels of the crowded restaurant. She seated them
in a tall booth of polished dark wood. An upside down copper kettle served as
the lampshade hanging over the table between them. It was a comfortable
atmosphere brimming with colorful decor from south of the border, cheerful
waiters, and happy customers—all against a background of festive Mexican music.
A waiter brought two glasses of iced water, a basket of crisp, fresh tortilla
chips, and a small bowl of salsa.
    “You need some time to look over the menus, Mr.
Brewster?” the waiter asked, setting the chips on the table.
    “I’ll have the usual. Michael, do you like chili
rellenos?”
    “Sure—whatever.”
    “We’ll have two chili rellenos dinners and two
drafts,” Grady ordered, already reaching for a chip and dipping into the bowl
of chunky red sauce.
    Michael followed Grady’s lead and dug into the
chips. “Whoa—I didn’t realize how hungry I was. This was a great idea,” he
mumbled over a mouthful of chips.
    “Yeah, this place is amazing. We come here all
the time. I carry the portfolio for Rick, the guy who owns this place.”
    “Grady, I didn’t even think to ask on the phone.
How’s Shari ? And
how are the kids?”
    That’s a switch. In
their usual encounters, Michael dominated the conversation with his endless
list of achievements and name-dropping. For a change, Michael seemed genuinely
interested in what he had to say.
    “ Shari ’s great.
Up to her eyeballs in PTA meetings, team mom for Jason’s soccer team,” Grady
answered, ticking off the list on his fingers. “She’s always carting Molly
somewhere—back and forth to piano lessons, gymnastics, Girl Scouts—you name it.
I